


One Final Journey.

by Silverhaunter



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: III, Assassin's Creed: Rogue, Cute if you squint, Deathfic, Gen, I like horses, Sad, So there are horses, This is just a headcannon, assasin's creed, is great, possible ooc, really squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhaunter/pseuds/Silverhaunter
Summary: "I'm so cold it's unbelievable. And I swam with ice burgs.""Yes you did, Shay." Haytham smiled lightly, "You looked very cold.""I make cold look good, sir.""Yes you do, Shay."..."I'll be there soon." Haytham said quietly."But not too soon, sir."..."Do you hate Shay for letting you live?"Achilles seemed surprised,"No. I don't suppose I do."...In which Shay has a couple final requests, Haytham leaves a note to Connor, Connor ends up with a new ship and horse, and Achilles muses upon the past.





	One Final Journey.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 3.  
> And Rogue.  
> Slight warning for mentions of thoughts of kinda suicide sort of but nothing that isn't in Rogue already.
> 
> Because I didn't and still do not understand why Haytham decided to full-out attack Connor after they'd had good progress toward peace.  
> And I decided it would make more sense in the theory that he was buying Charles time if someone else he cared about died only a little while earlier.  
> And so.  
> Sorry Shay, and Haytham, and Connor and Charles and Achilles. M'bad.  
> Probably OOC.  
> Kinda awkward pacing sorry I tried to fix it but I don't know what happened there
> 
> I needed this.
> 
> 2/4ths of the Templar Boyband, and Shay is here too, and Connor and Achilles  
> And horses because I really like horses
> 
> I didn't write this intending Shaytham but if you want to think of it as romantic love rather than brotherly love you go right ahead

  
  
"Might I ask who we are going to meet?" Charles gritted through his teeth, as his Gelding lept over a very unneccessary branch.

  
"An old friend, recently returned from France."

  
"A Templar, sir?"

  
"Yes, Charles."

  
They rode in silence for a few minutes, Charles' black gelding's hooves thumping on the ground loudly.  
  
  
Shots began to ring out, three in total, slightly startling the usually-calm mare Haytham was riding upon.  
Charles' gelding didn't seem to register the sounds as a threat, though, and he simply said, "I didn't know that there was much hunting in this area."  
  
It suddenly dawned on Haytham, "There isn't."  
  
He spurred the mare forward, and she snorted, ducking her head, and Haytham had to clench the reins to raise it, and she chewed in surprise at the bit.  
  
Dead bodies littered the ground.  
One, two...  
  
  
_Three._

_The third isn't dead._

  
_Oh please don't let it be who I think it is._

  
"Ah, Grand Master.." the body, cloaked in black and red, coughed heartily and his blood seeped into the muddied ground, "...Thankfully I make my own luck, or else I'd have to die all alone."

  
_God, no._

  
"Shay. You're not going to die. Charles go find a doctor."

  
Charles nodded, and spurred his gelding hard, "Come on," He said briskly.

  
"Thank y' for the symp'thy Master Kenway, but-"

  
"Haytham."

  
"Sir?" he coughed, and slowly began to rose to his feet, the injury not too bad, _it's not too bad-_

  
"It's Haytham."

  
"Sir, I think-" Shay suddenly whipped around, ducking into his second sight and hearing whispers all around him, he glanced upward toward the trees a moment too late, and as he stabbed the stalker in the throat before it could reach Haytham, the blade from the yellow-clad figure sank into his lungs.  
Shay began to sputter wildly, and fell backward onto Haytham, who leaned them both against a tree, and supported Shay's weight as they sank to the ground.  
Shay's breathing came in wet gasps, and bloodied coughs.

  
"Sorry, uh- sir."

  
"By god, for what?" Haytham gasped in surprise.

  
"There's a lot of blood on your nice coat. I know how you like 'o look presen'able and I gave you a bit of a scrape when I landed' sorry 'bout that, sir."

  
"Shay, do not apologize, I do not care."

 

  
"Sir?" He murmured, as if speing to an old friend, "Could you.. Could I- I don' want to-"  
"Would you like me to hold you, while you..." Haytham cleared his throat, ". ... Shay?"

  
"If you wouldn't mind. I'll go proudly, knowing I have done right, but as the world grows colder, I find myself in a state of lonliness I hadn't known."

  
"It is alright Shay. You'd do the same for me."

  
"I'm so cold it's unbelievable. And I swam with iceburgs."

  
"Yes you did, Shay." He smiled lightly, "You looked very cold."

  
"I make cold look good, sir."

  
"Yes you do, Shay."

  
"Am I a monster, sir? Can you tell me truthfully?"

  
"You are not, Shay," he said softly, "You are the most honorable among us."

  
"Thank you, sir. Will you take care of The Morrigan? Of the Order? My horse, she likes you, will you ride her? Keep her safe? I would like to be carried on her when I die."

  
"Of course, Shay." He breathed.

  
"I'll wait for you, then, sir?"

  
"I'll be there soon." Haytham said quietly, leaning his head against the Master Templar's.

  
"But not too soon, sir."

  
"Haytham." He corrected, again.

  
"But no too soon, _Haytham_." He whispered, leaning against his Grand Master's body, a body that was radiating with heat, with a pounding pulse, he reached for the hand that was wrapped around him, blood coating his lips, he pressed his hand to it, and Haytham squeezed it, trying to keep Shay alive.

  
He'd known Shay for a long while.

  
Shay had always been his favourite.

  
Someone who understood.

  
Someone who listened to his orders but didn't follow entirely blindly.

  
Someone with a history like his own, in a way.

  
Someone who thought for himself, who fought for what was right even if, to a past version of himself, it would've been something wrong.

  
Soon, the hand he was holding didn't respond when he squeezed it, and the wet, labored breathing had subsided, he glanced at Shay, whom had aged well, and was rather lovely in his own right, and his features were soft with sleep.

  
No. Not sleep.  
Shay had stopped breathing.

  
Haytham craled his head and murmured, "May the Father of Understanding guide you on one final journey, Shay."

  
He lifted Shay's body, and rested it on the kind-hearted mare who approached, a pinto horse, black and white, Shay's favourite, he'd named her Fotla, after the goddess who protected Morrigan, and the other Irish-Celtic goddesses.  
Shay had always liked animals. and they always had liked Shay.

  
Fotla seemed to recognize her master's death, and let out an agonized sound.  
"I am sorry, dear. I loved him too."

  
She nuzzled Haytham, smelling Shay's blood on his body, and Haytham pulled Shay onto Fotla, and then pulled himself onto his own mare, a lovely Buckskin,  
Shay had always kept Fotla's mane long, saying it was her free spirit, and it was her free mane, but Haytham, when he was able to use his favourite horse, had liked her thick, black mane in a hunter braid.  
Fotla seemed to mourn him, and walked carefully and slowly.  
The pinto mare was always very intelligent, strong, beautiful and agile like her master.  
Shay's blood fell slowly onto her pelt but she didn't seem to mind, only looking back to nudge his leg as if telling him to awaken.

 

  
Out of the corner of his eye, Haytham spotted movement in the woods, and stopped the horses, leaping off and stalking toward it, seeing a wide-eyed Assassin waiting in the brush,  
"Please sir, I had nothing to do with i-"  
"Your brotherhood had everything to do with it!" Haytham hissed, ready to spring, a cobra, his hidden blade, his fang, sliding out with a _shink._  
"I should cut you down where you stand, " Haytham muttered, "But I will not. Go, find the one responsible for this gang, tell them I will hunt them all down and stab them through the lungs, watching them choke on their blood."  
  
Charles had arrived in time to see Haytham's outburst, and he collected himself.  
Charles went wide-eyed.  
"Is he- Is Master Cormac-"  
Haytham nodded silently, but gave no other response.

  
"May the Father of Understanding guide you on one final journey, Master Cormac. Hello, Fotla. I am very sorry I did not protect him better, sweet girl."  
Fotla seemed to acknowledge Charles, but feared to move much.  
She let out a snort, and followed Charles' gelding, and walked next to Haytham's mare obediently.

 

* * *

  
  
Connor had been stalking the streets, prowling, searching for signs of Charles Lee.  
There he was, vulnerable-looking, his eyes red and his hair even more disheveled than it usually was.  
and there was Haytham, pulling a man off of a black-and-white pinto, who seemed to scream as her rider was forcefully pulled from-  
_that man is dead._

  
A Templar, no doubt.  
His lips were red with blood, that much was easy to see, even from here, and Haytham, looking strangely broken and horrified, would be an easy target.  
Connor stalked toward them, and Haytham's eyes snapped to the sound.

  
"Not today, Connor." Haytham muttered, holding the man's body up as he entered the strange building.  
Connor didn't listen, and continued moving toward him.  
Haytham growled and turned to face Connor, "Goddammit, child! I said not today! Why can't you just listen to your father for once?" His voice seemed on the verge of yelling or breaking entirely.  
Connor blinked in his surprise and nodded, slowly, "A truce then, until.."  
"His funeral. Three days." Haytham said, briskly.

  
"Who is he?" Connor asked, as he followed Haytham in, abiding by a temporary, unspoken agreement to be cordial, even past the line of the truce.  
"Shay Patrick Cormac. His previous Grand Master was Achilles. But, Achilles sent Shay to Lisbon to retrieve an artifact, and consequently, the city fell. So, he took the manuscript so that no innocents would have to die. He's a Master Templar, a Captain," and he added, quietly, "He likes animals. He's a good hunter, too. You two... in another time, would've been friends, I think."

  
Connor was beginninng to get worried, his father in this state of illness, "Are you unwell, father?"  
"I am not sick, Connor. I am just... lonely, now."  
"This man... was he a friend to you?"  
"Yes, Connor."  
"I am.... sorry."  
"Are you?"  
Connor shrugged, "I feel... sympathetic. I understand your loss."  
"I am not sure you do, Connor."  
"My mother died before me."  
"Shay died as I held him. He died to save my life, Connor. And yet, you are still determined to kill me, so I will die anyway. It seems wasteful."  
"...Oh."  
"I don't know why I told you of his past, but I feel like he would've wanted you to know."  
"Why?"  
"I... write about you, sometimes."  
"About me?"  
"Yes, only to Shay."  
Connor did not press further.

* * *

  
  
"Charles, you need to go." Haytham said, in a near-whisper, as he saw the ships floating down toward the fort.  
"Sir-"  
"Do as I say, Charles." Haytham commanded, and locked his gaze to Lee's.  
"He could kill you."  
"I expect nothing less from Ziio's son." _and my son_. he left the latter unspoken.  
"May the Father of Understanding guide us, Grand Master."  
"May the Father of Understanding guide us, Charles."

* * *

  
Haytham met Connor on the battlefield, but there was still that memory of death in his eyes.  
  
The same eyes which seemed to come to terms with his death as he bled from the neck,  
"I will not weep and wonder what might of been, " he whispered, "I hope you understand."  
Connor nodded, just barely.  
"Still," He breathed, "I am proud of you in a way, you have shown great courage, great conviction," he seemed to realize his mistake and added, "I should have killed you long ago."

* * *

  
Clutched in Haytham's hand was a small package, adressed to Connor Kenway.  
  
Later, after tending to his wounds, he read it.  
  
  
_Son,_  
  
_I know I am dead, even as I write this. Achilles would've trained you to do this and I do not hate you for it. I don't think I could hate you. Please do not mistake me for uncaring, but I do understand if you still hate me, and hate Charles, but do not hate Shay._  
_He was not like Charles and I, even though he was a "traitor."_  
_He tried to do what was right, he would not kill unarmed assassins, he would not harm_ civillians _if he could help it, he did not allow me to kill Achilles._  
_He did not want to kill his brethren, Connor._  
_He was honest, smart, courageous,_ curteous _, and above all, he did what was right, even if it was the more difficult path._

  
_His horse waits in the stables behind The Green Dragon Tavern._  
_She is a black-and-white pinto mare, with a lovely red and black saddle that is gilded with gold thread. The stall is locked, but the key is enclosed in this small package._  
_Please take care of her, Connor. Shay asked me to do_ it, _but would've agreed to let you keep her._  
_She is very docile, and she misses Shay, he was very kind-hearted toward her._  
_Her name is Fotla._

  
_Shay's ship is in the harbor,_ it's name _"The Morrigan." It has beautiful red sails and a wolf carving as the figurehead._  
_Grant your dead father his wish and do not bring harm to Fotla or Shay's Morrigan._  
_Care for them, please._  
_I ask you as Haytham, your father, not as Haytham Kenway, the Grand Master._  
_I'm... I'm sorry I was not there for you and your mother._  
_I wish I could have been._  
  
_-Haytham, your father, who was not the father he should've been._  
_Post-Script:_  
_Enclosed, along with the key, is Shay's_ templar _ring, accompanied by my own._  
_They are yours now, Connor._  
_I loved you in my own way, I think._  
_Good night, my son._  
  
Connor did not know what to think, as he unlocked the stall, and saw Fotla, staring at him with bright eyes, as he touched his hand to her snout, and she snorted.  
"I will take you somewhere you can be happy, if that is alright?"  
She seemed to understand, and stayed still while he put on her tack, and let go of all her air as he tightened the girth.  
"Thank you." He mumbled at the curteosy.  
The mare had an intelligence in her eyes that Connor didn't know animals had, and her head hung low as if she was sad.  
Like she was mourning.  
"His name was Shay, right?"  
Her ears perked up, and he assumed she was the most intelligent animal he'd ever known.  
  
He took her back to the Homestead, and Achilles seemed to startle at the sight of Connor on the horse.

  
"Now where did you get that?" Achilles said, in his usual accusatory tone.  
"My father left me a letter upon his death, and asked two things of me. One was to care for this horse, and the other was to care for a ship."  
"Ah. Well. You best be off then."

  
"Do you hate Shay for letting you live?"

  
Achilles seemed surprised,"No. I don't suppose I do."

  
"Do you hate him for betraying you?

  
"I cannot hate Shay for trying to do what is right. I can only feel regret for not seeing what he'd seen, for not halting our progress before too many had died."

  
"He was murdered a little before I killed my father."

  
"That's almost sad to hear."

  
"He died protecting my father."

  
"Sounds like something he'd do."

  
"Have you forgiven him?"

  
"You did not see what I saw in his eyes, Connor. The Shay I knew wasn't alive inside that body anymore, like walking around in a dead man's skin, he didn't seem to see anything but darkness."

  
"Did it hurt you to see him that way?"

  
"At the time I thought it was his payment for what he'd done, but then I realized that he'd already paid , in his body in his soul in his peace of mind, he was entirely alone, like I came to be."

  
"You sympathized?"

  
"I related, Connor."

  
"What was he like?"

  
"He was pushed around a lot, the others would train him hard, constantly, he must've felt a lot of pressure from Liam and myself. That's why he went to Lisbon, anyway. He was expendable. I thought that if anyone was going to die, it could be Shay."

  
"But he didn't die."

  
"No. But his certainty in the brotherhood died, he lost all trust in us, and then Chevalier shot him and he fell off the cliff into the bay. I remember it clearly, he was running from us like a rabid wolf, and slid to a stop at the edge of the cliff just south of here. Hope and Liam especially seemed incredibly disturbed, but Chavalier just seemed annoyed. I remember standing there, in near-silence, as Hope begged him for the Manuscript back, the look in Shay's eyes was of such horror and self-disgust, I'd never seen a man so ready to leap off of a cliff, and I work with people who dive into haybales. I remember little of what he said at first, but recall the way Liam's muscles clenched, and Hope's body was swept with a tremor as he murmured, 'One more hardly matters'. I can still hear Liam calling his name, and the gunshot ringing out, I can hear his body hit the snow and slide into the frozen water with a crack and a splash when I listen to the waves beat on the sand, I can see his blood painting the white landscape and see Liam starring at the water, waiting for his head to break the surface. I'd never seen that group of people more disoriented."

  
"He really was going to jump?"  
"Yes, Connor."  
"Would he have survived that?"  
Achilles shook his head, "I think he planned not to."  


* * *

  
After hearing what this Templar had done, Connor felt some confusion.  
He'd fought Templars.. and he just joined them?  
It didn't make sense.  
However, in Shay's saddlebags were two journals, one with a rough dark leather and binding, and one that was in far better condition, and lighter-coloured.  
The lighter one had a name on the inside,  
_Haytham Kenway_  
And the darker one, in quick, slightly slanted handwriting  
_Shay Patrick Cormac_  
  
He tucked them away for later.  
  
The mare seemed to roll her eyes.  
  
Connor held the rings in his hand, and had Big Dave and Ellen fasten them to his belt, a reminder of his father and a reminder that not all stories are the same.  
  
Connor hid them well.  
Nobody needed to know.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I think I did okay for being sick.


End file.
